


Till The End of The Line

by RachelSadie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Curse Breaker Draco Malfoy, Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest, Fluff, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mention Of Homophobia, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Post-Canon, Post-Hogwarts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:15:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22110922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachelSadie/pseuds/RachelSadie
Summary: There were five times when Draco Malfoy's magic changed the course of Harry Potter's life.And one time where Harry Potter's saved his.They've saved each other so many times, why should they stop now?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 169
Collections: Drarropoly 2.0 - A Drarry Game/Fest





	1. "I only almost died, it's fine."

**Author's Note:**

> This was such a challenge for me and I loved every second of it! I hope you guys enjoy it too
> 
> Title inspired by Captain America
> 
> Prompt: Draco Malfoy has helped several times with his spellwork, curse breaking, and ingenuity. Harry Potter is tasked with getting Draco to join the team. Use the 5 times + 1 format. Minimum: 3299 words - Maximum: 4699 words.

Harry’s departure to Peru had been so sudden that he had barely had time to wrap his mind around it. He’d not even gotten to say goodbye to Ron or Hermione, aside from the brief owl he was able to scribble out at his desk. It had been less than eighteen hours since he was given his orders, and now, he stood on foreign soil, receiving a briefing from a Peruvian Ministry official. This was the life he’d chosen as an Auror, especially once he had signed on for the Special Missions Team. This was the thrilling and adventurous work that he had so eagerly jumped into. 

His heart raced with the adrenaline of it all. A group of Dark Wizards, thought to be remnants of the Death Eaters, attempting to reorganize in a new part of the world. Harry all but ached for the job, bouncing while he listened and departing very quickly when he was released. He was up the entire night formulating a plan. He had maps of the mountains and he spent his time notating every potential cave structure among them. 

“Hope you’re ready for a hike, mate,” he said to his partner. It was no later than four in the morning when Harry was ready to head out the door. Barty Brimlew was his assigned partner for this case. He was a decent enough wizard, though Harry desperately missed having Ron at his side in moments like these. Ron would have been as geared up for the fight as Harry was, while Barty was grumpy and preferred to wait until daylight. Harry would have none of that, even if he had to drag him from bed himself. 

Their hike began tediously and had Harry not been so worked up already, it might have been nice to take in the view. It wasn't an option though, and instead he found himself dipping in and out of every cavern that they came across, meticulously marking off the ones that were empty. As he entered. one in particular, a cold chill ran across his skin. He vaguely heard Barty mention that they might use caution, but he was too impulsive, already delving into the depths of the cave.

“Come now, Brimlew, there’s nothing to fear.” He was basically laughing as he turned, walking backwards. His laugh was still on his face when he stumbled over something and fell to the ground. His eyes widened. “Barty...I think you ought to come here.” He was righting himself, sitting up where he had fallen on the cave floor. Just in front of him, where he had tripped, sat a large wooden crate. “Seems a little out of place, does it not?” Barty agreed with a much more wary expression than Harry wore, even as he reached out to open it. 

“I would not do that, Potter.” Came the sound of a familiar voice just at the edge of the cave. Malfoy stepped further in, wand drawn. “Backup a moment, would you? Before I blow off your annoyingly disheveled head.” He eyed Harry expectantly, waiting for him to do as he was told and rolling his eyes when Harry raised a hand to his head. 

“Bombarda.” His spell was perfectly cast, causing the crate itself to blow up. Harry had, for a long time, admired the way that Malfoy’s spells were always cast in such a monotone voice, yet always landed so precisely. “As I thought,” Malfoy said, distracting Harry from thoughts of his voice, no matter how much he enjoyed hearing it. 

“As you thought, what exactly?” Harry was looking at him as if he had grown a third head. 

“The case blew up. The contents, however, did not. I suspected -- as I’m now certain -- that you were about to get yourself cursed -- or killed -- knowing you, Potter.” He shrugged and moved forward, wand at the ready. The items in the case were an odd collection of seemingly useless knick-knacks. Draco crouched over them, muttering incantations under his breath, swirls of light coming from his wand until suddenly a jarring cracking sound filled the air. Harry had, over the years, come to recognize that sound as the breaking of an extremely powerful curse. He wasn’t surprised though. The moment he had recognized Draco, he’d figured out that they were dealing with something heavy. Gringotts didn’t send their best curse-breakers to do menial work. 

“Are you going to stand there smugly, or share what you know with me?” Harry asked, watching Draco. The blond eyed Barty cautiously. He trusted Harry but wasn’t fond of strangers anymore. 

“Well, I’ve just saved you from being turned into a werewolf, so, you’re welcome.” He shrugged as Harry gaped. “The Lycacomia Curse is particularly nasty when it's placed on objects. The expectation is that someone curious becomes so enthralled by the object, they can’t help but reach for it. The moment that they do, the cursed item releases it’s magic into the bloodstream of the holder. Basically, the item itself is nothing but a carrier.” 

“And I just about touched it.”

“Correct.” 

The rest of the mission, Harry insisted that Draco be the first into the caves. He was a far better partner than Barty.


	2. "I've done this before, damnit"

“Gringotts is asking for Ministry help?” Harry’s eyebrows raised as he sipped his coffee. Draco was lounging in the chair across from him, his feet placed on Harry’s desk casually. 

“Yep.” He didn’t look pleased about it. They had found themselves, Harry and Draco, working together more often than they ever would have wished. This was, however, the first time that Gringotts had actively sought assistance from the Ministry. Harry almost laughed, thinking of how miffed the goblins must have been about the ordeal. 

“Alright, then, fill me in before we get to it, will you?” He pulled out a notebook to jot down thoughts as Malfoy gave him a rundown. Gringotts vaults were being broken into, and Harry felt immeasurably guilty for freeing the dragon that had previously made the place so well protected. He paused his writing to look up at Malfoy, momentarily distracted by the light shining through the window and reflecting off the bright blond of his hair. “Hold on, why do we think these items are cursed though?” He wasn’t seeing the connection. “If they’re stolen, wouldn’t they have cursed the thieves?”

“I would wager a bet that they’re being cursed by the thieves. It’s what I would do if I were a criminal.” Harry resisted the urge to point out to him that at one point, he had been. 

“Alright, so things are being stolen from Gringotts, and taken where?”

“Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” Draco rolled his eyes as if Harry’s question were obvious. “We don’t know. What we do know is that curses leave traces. Very distinct ones, and if you happen to know what you’re looking for, they’re fairly easy to follow.” 

Harry was growing more and more confused by the minute. “So you plan to seek out the traces of the curse, and allow them to lead us to the thieves.” It finally made sense, and he felt like maybe he had been dense to not follow from the beginning. It was why they needed an Auror. They would send a Curse Breaker after the stolen property, and an Auror, to make certain that the Curse Breaker came back in one piece. “I’m your guard dog, then?” Harry let out a laugh. 

“Something like that.” His face was impassive, but Harry could see the slight curl of his lips that threatened a smile. 

“Alright so then, what are we waiting for? Let’s go.” Harry pushed his chair out like he was going to stand, but Malfoy didn’t move an inch. 

“We’re going nowhere until I’ve taught you how to detect a cursed object.” 

“I know how to--” Harry was abruptly cut off by one raised hand from Draco. 

“Yes, yes. You have experience, you destroyed Horcruxes, you're an Auror, I know.” He looked utterly unimpressed. “There’s a lot you don’t know and I’m not going to have you get killed.” He seemed to realize that his words might be expressing a little too much care. “Then I would be on my own with a bunch of criminals, mind you.” Harry didn’t argue anymore. He’d learned in their eighth year that arguing with him only frustrated both of them and got them nowhere. Without a word, Draco pulled three lockets from his pocket and placed them on the table in front of Harry. “Can you distinguish the cursed one?” 

Harry watched the lockets for a moment as if they might move on their own and give him the answer. They didn’t, of course, but after long moments of silent study, he finally chose a locket. He looked up at Draco, proud. 

“Could you have done that in a split second, with your life on the line?” 

“Do I have to remind you that I stole a cursed goblet from a Gringotts Vault myself? And that about six thousand other goblets that looked identical were filling the room?” He couldn’t believe they were having this stupid conversation. “The truth is, I don’t know. I never know what I can do until I have to do it.” 

“That’s not a good enough answer for me to risk my life, Potter.” He reached for Harry’s hand and held it tightly as he picked up the cursed locket in the other hand. Harry shivered at the touch, but if Draco had noticed it, he hadn’t reacted. “Can you feel the way that my skin buzzes? The Magic flows through my veins feels almost like unnatural electricity.” Harry laced his fingers through Draco’s more comfortably and nodded. “That’s not what another person’s magic ought to feel like. It ought to be just as much a part of them as any physical aspect. Only a cursed item in their possession would create that sort of jittery energy”

Harry’s voice was thick when he spoke again. His fondness, his awe, his desire for Draco grew every time he saw him practice something new. He was transfixed. 

“You should teach that to Aurors,” he said, unable to clear the thickness. 

“I’ve just taught it to the only one I care about.” He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Their hands remained linked together on the desk as they continued to speak. Neither of them mentioned it.


	3. "The irony here is unbearable."

Hospital rooms at St. Mungos were much smaller than Harry remembered from his visit there. Being a patient held a far different perspective, and the fact that the Weasleys were crowding his room non-stop only made it feel smaller. He’d been there less than a day. Nineteen hours to be exact, and he had not been alone for a single second. Ron had come in with the right attitude at least, filling him in on the final details of his mission. He had missed out on the end of the raid due to his injuries. Hermione and Molly had shushed Ron quickly, insisting that Harry shouldn’t hear about work right now. He didn’t tell them that it was the only thing he really wanted to know. 

It had gotten late and most everyone had either fallen asleep at his bedside or gone back to the Burrow after his many reassurances that he would be fine. His wounds were still bleeding, packed and bandaged the muggle way while mediwizards tried their hardest to figure out how to help him. Harry already knew that they wouldn’t be able to though. The only person who knew the cure for Sectumsempra wounds was long dead. How the wizard in the alley last night even knew this particular curse was beyond Harry, though, it was something that he would make it a mission to understand, should he survive it. 

He must have slipped into a deep sleep at some point because when he woke to a hooded figure sitting at the edge of his bed, he nearly screamed. The figure had his wand out, pointed at Harry. More specifically, pointed at Harry’s wounds. He scrambled for his glasses desperately, recognizing the face under the hood the moment he got the slightest peek. It didn’t take him long to relax, focus changing to watch his wounds disappear. A pang of guilt flooded him. Of course, Draco would know the cure. 

“Why are you dressed like that?” He questioned, his green eyes heavy with sleep and confusion. 

“You think the Weasley clan would have let me within feet of you while you’re injured? Goddamn guard dogs, every one of them.” He was spiteful and disapproving, as if the idea that he might hurt Harry was asinine. The moment Harry’s wounds were closed, Draco was on his feet again, prepared to leave. The sudden shift of weight on the bed left a resounding emptiness that Harry felt straight to his core.

“Wait,” he grabbed Draco’s wrist. “Stay. I would like you to stay.” He had to swallow down his pride. “If I tell you that what happened yesterday has left me very shaken and a little scared,” he paused to take a very shaky breath. “And that you are the only person I trust to fully cover me right now, will you stay?” 

Silence fell between them, but he was certain that he saw a hint of a smile pull at Draco’s lips as his hood fell. Finally taking off his robes, Draco pulled a chair to the side of the bed and took his seat. It was a long night, but he remained there the rest of it, and when the Weasleys woke up the next morning, there were only a few who seemed surprised by the company.


	4. "I have no idea what just happened."

“I’ve said no, Potter.” Draco’s voice was bored and clearly detached from the conversation. “Gringotts pays better than the Ministry. I’ve absolutely no interest in being an Auror.” His voice was quiet, turning into Knockturn Alley with Harry at his side. 

“Please,” Harry’s disbelief was apparent. “How many missions have we done together this year? You’re basically doing the work already. Not to mention what a fair teacher you would make to young Curse Breakers who do want to be Aurors.”

“Better than fair, mind you.” He sounded offended, and Harry snickered for a minute before cursing and grabbing a handful of Draco’s robes and pulling him back under the shadow of an awning. “What the bloody hell was that?” Draco hissed, but at least he had the right mind to do so quietly. 

“Theodore Nott just entered Borgin and Burkes, Draco.” Harry swallowed and leaned against the stone. Their plan needed to be re-evaluated, lest they have their cover blown by an old classmate.

“Are you a wizard or not, Harry?” Harry’s eyebrows furrowed as Draco pulled his wand from his pocket. “Ruddy tosser, miracle they let you call yourself an Auror. Saviour of the Wizarding World my left nut. How you passed Concealment and Disguise is beyond me.” Malfoy was muttering, mostly to himself, but loud enough for Harry to hear. 

“Offense taken,” he muttered back, his face falling a little under Draco’s criticism. When he looked up again, Draco no longer looked like himself. He was tall, dark-haired like Harry, more muscular than usual. He pointed his wand at Harry, and in a moment, he too was sure to have a different appearance. 

“Let’s go.” He pushed Harry forward, the two of them stepping in the doors of Borgin and Burkes. Harry was just as creeped out by the place these days as he was at sixteen, but still, he browsed the old items, making himself appear a regular customer. It wasn’t like they could corner Borgin about contraband artifacts with Nott in the store. As he fumbled through small aisleways, he passed Draco a few times, knowing without a doubt that he was losing his patience. 

“Do you trust me?” Draco’s voice drawled quietly behind him. It sounded hesitant and yet somehow taunting all at once. Harry was absolutely certain he’d never heard that sort of tone from him before. He nodded in response, nearly yelping when Draco’s next move was to pull him in tightly, lips crashing against his own. 

Harry gasped into Draco’s mouth, entirely taken aback and incredibly confused. This hardly seemed like the time or place for a show of affection of this sort. He had half a mind to shove Draco off of him, but that wasn’t what his body was doing. While his mind thought of it, his hands were clutching into the blond’s robes for dear life, holding him as close as could be and enjoying the taste of his lips. When they pulled away, Harry was dazed and breathless, but Draco was as sharp and focused as ever. 

“Nott is the level biggest homophobe I have ever had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing,” he whispered. “He’s left the store now.” Sure enough, Harry looked up to see Nott all but fleeing the store. They were as alone as they wanted to be now. Harry nodded, raising his wand to the blinds and watching them fall. Draco pointed his at the sign, and it flipped around to show the word ‘Closed’ to the Alley. 

“Borgin,” Harry said, smirking a little as he felt Draco release him from his disguise. “I’d like a word about the origin of this collection of remembralls, if you don’t mind.” He stepped forward out of the shadows, draco doing the same beside him. Truly, they made a good team.


	5. "This was probably a bad idea, but at least it worked."

“You kissed me last week. Do you plan to discuss that?” Harry raised an eyebrow at the man walking through his door. His eyes, usually grey, seemed almost a sparkling silver as if he was up to something. It stirred something uncomfortable in Harry, who had spent a good deal of his life committed to uncovering whatever Draco was up to. 

“Are you going to continue to stalk me at work?” As usual, he was unfazed, even by Harry’s attempt to bring up their kiss. 

“I am not stalking you.”

“And I did not kiss you.” 

“Yes, you did.” 

“You weren’t you and I wasn’t me.” The sparkle in his eye was taunting now. There was no mistaking that he was getting joy out of watching Harry squirm in very obvious annoyance and confusion.

“Just because we were in disguise doesn’t mean we weren’t us!’ He finally formulated the words and spat them out as if they tasted bad in his mouth. He had thought perhaps there was something stronger here. Something a little bit deeper than a begrudging partnership. Truthfully, they didn’t even have that in any sort of official way. 

“Do you want to work on spellcraft or no?” A blond eyebrow raised at him and Harry huffed, stepping up to his kitchen table and leaning on it across from where Draco stood and nodding. Draco paused for a moment, uncharacteristic of him and causing Harry to frown. “Potter, you know this is incredibly dangerous, yeah? I’m not attempting to be offensive, I just want you to know what you’re signing up for. You grew up with muggles. It’s quite hard sometimes to know what you do or don’t know. Spellcraft is incredibly dangerous. That’s why it’s generally illegal in many senses, and frowned upon in almost all others.” 

“Every powerful wizard I have known has at least one spell to their name.” He knew he was justifying the risk, but he couldn’t help how desperately he wanted this. Draco’s face softened more than Harry had ever seen before. 

“You don’t have to create magic to be a hell of a wizard. I think the things you’ve done qualify, you know?” He was serious and sincere enough to shock Harry into silence. “I’ll still help you. I’m just saying, you don’t have to be Dumbledore or whomever else. Your head is big enough as it is.” He laughed and gave one last pause, allowing Harry to back out if he wanted to, before continuing. “Come here,” he said gently, extending a hand to Harry, who took it as he walked around the table. “Magic is an energy of sorts. They say that it can’t be destroyed nor created, only changed. So in order to create a spell, you have to power it from somewhere. The most intense place to power it would be from the source. Which is you. Your very being. Magic is a fundamental part of each one of us. It’s our core, for lack of a better explanation. Everything that we are stems from it, which is why sharing your magic with another person is said to be such an intimate experience. It’s quite literally giving another person access to the core of your being.”

“Okay,” he spoke slowly, attempting to follow along, wrapping his mind around what he was being taught. “I didn’t even know you could do that--share magic-- that is.” 

“It’s quite simple really. It comes down to a decision to do so and that’s it. I’ve only ever heard of the decision being made in extreme cases, but that’s not the point today.” He cleared his throat and stood up a little straighter. “Focus all of your energy, all of your thoughts, and all of your emotions on the magic inside you. Allow it to be the only thing about you. When it becomes all-encompassing, and it feels like it’s too much to bear, you’ll know. That’s the moment to cast.” 

Harry did exactly as he was instructed, though he failed over and over again. Nearly two in the morning had come before the moment made itself known. The cursed spider on the table slowed its jerking movements as Harry cast his first spell, then collapsed backwards. He hit the floor, nearly passing out in a daze. A grin appeared on his face as strong arms cradled his body. The man above him was laughing. A peal of true, vibrant laughter. 

“Harry Potter, I believe you have just invented a counter for the Cruciatus Curse.” He was running his hand through Harry’s sweat-soaked hair. The gesture was weirdly affectionate, but given all they had been through, Harry accepted it without hesitation, allowing his body the rest it finally deserved in Draco’s arms. 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Will you join the Ministry now? I need you as a partner.” He didn’t stay awake long enough for a response, his eyes closing as he fell into a deep sleep right there on the floor of his kitchen with Draco holding him.


	6. "This was never supposed to turn out like this."

  
_ “It’s quite simple really. It comes down to a decision to do so and that’s it. I’ve only ever heard of the decision being made in extreme cases though.” _ Harry could hear Draco’s voice in his head, playing on repeat.    
  
“Harry, it’s time.” Hermione’s voice was soft and soothing. She was trying to be supportive in his time of grief, despite never really having been fond of Draco herself. He could hardly blame her, after the way he had treated her as kids. Still, he wished she could know the man he knew now. The one who saved him time and time again. The one who taught him things he never learned at Hogwarts.    
  
“No.” Harry shook his head, squeezing Draco’s hand.    
  
“Mate,” Ron’s voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, but he only shook his head in response. “He’s a wizard. He can’t live without magic. Even if he could, he wouldn’t want to.”   
  
“Don’t pretend to know what he would have wanted,” Harry snapped, his voice harsh and cold. There was a bitterness to it that he had never harbored before now. All the loss that his life had held, nothing ever quite seemed this unbearable. To lose a love before ever admitting what it really was. To come so far from the people they had been when they met, only to lose each other in the end anyway. It seemed too tragic for even his life. Ron and Hermione were silent now, and it was Neville who stepped up to the plate, everyone seeming to take their turn to try and talk Harry to reason. 

“I didn’t want to let my parents go either. I remember.” His voice was so soft and fearful, and for the very briefest moment, Harry felt guilty for snapping. “It’s hard when they’re still technically alive, breathing, heart pumping and all. They’ve just not got magic in them any more. Not like you can see their magic though. Not like those other bits.”    
  
“I have a question, Hermione.” Harry’s head snapped up as if he had ignored everything that Neville had said. Of course, he hadn’t, but his mind was in far too many places to process right now. “Say that one had very minimal magic left. Not completely drained, but enough to keep them…” He swallowed and looked at Draco's limp and lifeless body.   
  
“Harry James Potter.” Hermione’s tone was awe-struck as if she knew where he was going with this before he had even formed the words.    
  
“Would it work or not, Hermione?” He challenged. Ron, Neville, and Ginny were gazing between them, all utterly confused. “He’s dying! You’ve all come to tell me it’s time to say my goodbyes. This is a last-ditch effort!” He paused for a moment, gripping Draco's thin hand as hard as he could as if using it to focus.    
  
“I don’t know if it would work or not...” She trailed off, brow knit with thought, trying to remember everything she knew. He didn’t need her to though. He remembered every word about it that Draco had taught him.    
  
“Magic is like energy. It’s not created or destroyed only changed. So hypothetically if a person had enough magic in them to keep them alive for a short time, then what they would need would be access to another magical core. A form of recharge.” There was awe in his voice. It had been nearly a week of this. Almost seven days of sitting at Draco’s bedside with no sign of response. Draco himself had given Harry the answer. 

As the realization struck him, he felt the effects of his decision before he had consciously even made it. As if his heart, his own core, made it for him. He was suddenly far too hot, sweat beading on his head. His chest felt like it might physically tear open and pour his heart out on the bed and into Draco’s lap. He was no longer capable of releasing the hand that he held as if they were glued to each other. His friends stood, all looking pitifully confused and nervous, but Harry couldn’t even really notice them.   
  
_ “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” _ _   
_ _ “Scared, Potter?” _ _   
_ _ “Can’t even go to a bookshop without making the front page.” _

_ “Training for the ballet, Potter?” _ _   
_ _ “Half the Triwizard champions have died… how long d’you reckon you’re going to last, Potter? Ten minutes into the first task’s my bet.” _

_ “You'd better hurry up, they'll be waiting for 'the Chosen Captain' — 'The Boy Who Scored'— whatever they call you these days.” _ _   
_ _ “You saved my life back there.”  _ _   
_ _ “Potter, of course, you’re the Ministry’s top choice. Are you head Auror yet? I suppose the Chosen One doesn’t actually have to work to get there.” _ _   
_ _ “Harry.” _ _   
_ _ “Do you trust me?” _ _   
_ _ “Is this a meeting or a coffee date? Where’s your briefcase walked off to?” _   
  
It was like watching a movie of their lives, more than that, watching it and reliving it all in the span of a breath. He opened his eyes again, sure his cheeks were tear-stained. Breath heaving in his chest, his eyes found Draco’s face only to meet grey eyes finally looking back at him.

  
“You’re an idiot. Can someone fetch me some water?” His voice was weak, ragged from days of disuse, but it made Harry laugh, bending over and letting his head rest on Draco’s stomach.    
  
“Now will you be my partner?” He asked, giving a small teasing smile.    
  
“Yeah,” Draco winked, and Harry’s heart leapt. “But I still won’t join the Ministry.”


End file.
